


our love language

by lilibug



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Varchie!Centric, a little bit of smut activities, an au of some sort, but mostly introspection, comfy with a hea, feelings inbound, hidden harry potter reference because i'm a sucker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:34:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23658427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilibug/pseuds/lilibug
Summary: Veronica comes home to the only place she ever regretted leaving—Archie.
Relationships: Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge
Comments: 9
Kudos: 43





	our love language

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd, so don't be too harsh. just a little something for my varchie gals.

She feels like an unexpected storm rolling into town, wrecking havoc to nature's carefully laid plans. Heads turn her way, gazes wary and disparaging—staring at her. They don't see Veronica though, not really, they see her father. 

In disposition to Riverdale's frosty reception, it feels all to like the bright, harsh sun. It's a wonder what a good pair of sunglasses can do for a girl. 

Though, she doesn't need them all the time. Especially not with Archie. Which is surprising, considering the veritable shade of his hair. 

It's when she runs her fingers through the silken fire strands, his soft sigh against her neck, that she settles into the eye of the storm; calm, collected, and entirely herself. There is no facade, because it melts away at his very presence. 

She could spend a lifetime with him, she knows it from the start. 

Every brush of his hand against hers, the graze of his shoulder, the way his lips feel upon hers—it makes her heart flutter. 

He makes her better in every sense of the word. And she likes to think she does the same for him. They learn and grow together, they fight, they play, they change—but even though they may walk different paths, they always meet in the end. 

All it takes is one stroke of his palm against her cheek to have her leaning into him again. Old habits die hard, but she never wants this to end. The thought of it wells in her chest like a lead weight and she blinks back tears threatening to fall. Instead, she rises to her tip toes and presses her mouth to his, fingers twisting in the neck of his t-shirt as she pulls him down to meet her. 

Intimacy is second nature for them; easy. Actions speak louder than words, and Veronica’s always had a quiet voice when it comes to matters of the heart. 

No one says a thing, but they both know what's bubbling beneath it all. 

Archie loops an arm around her waist, lifting her even higher, closer, so that he can back her up against the wall. It's familiar, as is the way he tugs her lip between his teeth. His hand cups her jaw, thumb tilting her to a more suitable angle as he pushes a thigh between her legs. 

Her body sings in response to his touch, goosebumps on her arms, hairs raised at the back of her neck. Her hand balls into a fist in the fabric of his shirt as she aches to be unraveled. From the way his fingers slide down the length of her throat, to the way his eyes turn dark and wide to drink her in like a glass of pinot—all of it has her desperate.

"Archie," she whispers, just a little out of breath. His mouth is already stained the dark burgundy she had on her lips, but she's eager to paint his skin with more; to leave the imprint of her lips on his shoulders, his stomach, his thighs. "Take me upstairs." 

He grins, boyish and soft, and tilts his head. "Now, how could I resist such a fine offer from a pretty lady?" 

She swats at him, palm flattening over his chest as she smoothes out the wrinkles in his shirt. "So debonair. I nearly forgot." 

"Ronnie." He covers her hand with his, caging her. "I missed you." 

Her head tips back and she stares up at him, lip pulled between her teeth. "Me too." 

Archie leans in, eyes closing as he breathes her in, nose edging into her hairline. She feels that flutter, that skip in her chest, and swallows down the words that burn and sting and lets herself relax against him. 

She can feel the steady thump of his heart beat, echoing the same rhythm against her palm like a drum. 

Then he's pulling away, and for one swift moment she's on the precipice of shattering like broken glass. But it's only to take her hand clasped in his and pull her toward the stairs. 

Veronica smiles, tucking her face into his shoulder as they squeeze onto the staircase side-by-side. She feels nostalgia roll through her, as they cross the squeaky floorboards into the room that's always been his, even so many years after Fred has passed. 

Everything gives her flashbacks to a time much simpler. Familiar Downey fabric softener, spicy Big Red gum, and soft cedar from working with wood all day. Things have changed, but some remain the same. 

Archie takes her hand and lifts his arm up high, jutting his chin up. She spins gleefully, kicking off her heels at the same time only to stumble over herself, or the clutter that still seems to litter the floor, and she laughs as he hauls her forward. 

"Careful," he admonishes, "Or you'll fall for me all over again." 

Her eyes can't help but roll as she peels herself back to look up at him. "Do you use lines like that on all women?" 

"No." He shakes his head with a slow grin, stepping between her feet and forcing her to take a step backwards. He follows, kicking off the boots from his own with practiced ease until the backs of her knees find the bed. "—just you." 

"Well, now I feel special." Her reply tips into sarcasm but it's lost in the moment of him slipping his hands beneath the hem of her blouse. 

"Can I take this off?" 

_You can do whatever you'd like._

She nods and he raises his hands, palms sliding up the curve of her waist and back down again before catching the fabric. She lifts her arms up and he pulls the silky material over her head and drops it from his fingers. She doesn't let her thoughts stray to the wrinkles it'll accumulate or what her dry cleaners might think when she carries in the rumpled outfit amidst others that look barely worn. 

Her skirt follows suit, her breath holding tight in her chest as he pops the buttons and it pools at her feet. 

Then, he's looking at her. Eyes dropping down the slope of her shoulders, over the delicate lines and embroidery in her lingerie, and lingering over her curves. 

She feels sixteen all over again. 

Her hands fiddle, before she reaches out to grasp at his shirt, tugging it upward. Every inch revealed reminds her that they are in fact, _not_ sixteen anymore. 

He watches her as she stills, as she traces her fingernail over the scripted words that climb the ladder of his ribs. There are splashes of ink that decorate his body, some familiar, and many not. She wants to learn about all of them. 

"Veronica…" 

She looks up as Archie pulls the rest of the fabric over his head. He pauses at his jeans, mouth already dipping down into a frown. 

"Are you sure you want to do this? After all this time?" 

"Yes," she says assuredly. Doesn't even have to think twice about it. "Always." 

It's then that she reaches out, fingers undoing his belt first and then his jeans with a movement that feels slow and fast all at once. She turns around after, swishing her hair over her shoulder, arms raising behind her back to unclip her bra and let it fall. 

She hears the clink of the belt buckle hitting the floor, hears him kick the jeans away and stumble over getting his socks off. 

He murmurs a quiet, "I've gotten better at that, you know." 

A smile graces her lips. "You'll have to show me next time." Because she means it. Next time. 

Archie's hands brush her hair from her neck, his lips finding the divot at the top of her spine. "Hopefully that's sooner rather than later." 

Tingles erupt at the base of her skull and feel like little electric _zip-zaps_ that race in the opposite direction as he works his way up and around to her ear. His breath fans the sensitive skin there and she nerely sways on her feet, head tilting sharply to the side. Her reply withers into a moan as it leaves her lips, one that has him slipping his other hand to her front, palm pressed firmly to her belly. 

"Did you dress up for me, or do you always wear this type of underwear?" 

She bites her lip as his fingers pluck at the edge, barely there lace and silk trimmings. His fingers barely graze over the front, but it feels like fire lighting her up in a blaze. 

"I always dress to impress," Veronica purrs, grinning in satisfaction at his chuckle against her neck. But perhaps he did say he liked her in black, once upon a time. 

"I should have expected an answer like that." 

He traces something into the jut of her hip, a little less pronounced than the last time they were together. But then he grips her sides, fingers indenting in her skin as he rocks her back against him and she doesn't care nearly as much anymore. He's warm, solid, and she clutches one hand at his thigh, the other flying up to his forearm. Archie presses his lips to her neck, teeth grazing her skin and she sighs as every part of her comes alive in his hands. 

Want. Need. _Hunger_ —swirls low in her belly, and she pushes back against him, eyelids drooping low. 

His hand slips beneath the edge of her underwear, fingers teasing and touch light as he inches down. It's the most pleasant torture she can think of. 

He cups her sex and she squirms, hips rocking forward almost immediately. She huffs out a breath as her nails dig into the places they've sunk hold. He takes his time though, and she's nearly panting when he parts her folds and drags his fingers through her arousal. 

All it takes is one swipe of his thumb over her clit, rough and not wet enough, but even so she's keenly aware of how much she needs this—needs him—and just how little it's actually going to take. 

He drags his fingers up, wet and slick, to circle the bundle of nerves and her knees go weak. 

"Archie," she gasps, sucking in a breath of air as he applies just the right amount of pressure. "I want you. Now." 

A hum reverberates through the side of her head, his tongue flicking at the lobe of her ear and sending heat spiraling further down her spine. "Where are your manners, Miss Lodge?" 

"Left them at home." Veronica grits her teeth, fingernails raking down his arm as she bucks her hips into the movement of his hand.

"That's a long way from here." 

_Maybe not anymore_ , she thinks for a second before Archie's slipping his fingers down and then she chokes on a breath as he slides two inside her. "Fuck," she groans, back bowing as her eyes close. It's been a while.

He grins into her neck, lips and tongue laving a path down the curve of her shoulder. "You wanna tell me how you want it, or am I in charge this time?" 

"Oh, Archiekins," she murmurs, feeling drunk on the movement of his fingers as his thumb brushes her clit again, "It's cute that you think you're ever actually in charge." 

He pouts at that, hooking his chin over her shoulder and leaving a kiss next to her jaw. It's such a soft contrast to the way his fingers pump inside her, slick sounds building as her body responds in kind. 

"Someday I'll let you," Veronica sighs, head tipping back, eyes fluttering as she struggles to keep them open. "But for now, I want you on your back." 

It's delight that he exudes, a punctuated thrust of his wrist, fingers brushing _just so_ as he breathes over her neck and ear. "That's just about my favorite place, anyway." 

She smiles. "Good. Now, make me come." 

A request easily fulfilled, that ends up with her knees shaking, barely able to stand. 

They end up on the bed eventually, the rest of their underwear on the floor perhaps to never be seen again. And it's there, that they find their rhythm, an old sense of normalcy but still bleeding with new curiosity. 

And it's when she looks down at him, his entire being focused on her, she knows what this feels like. 

She always has, but it feels more real now than it ever has before. 

It's always been branded in her bones, beneath skin and heart and all the words that catch in her throat everytime she sees him. She wants to be his safe house in the middle of a war, a lit up home at the end of the day signaling to come this way. Would willingly give her hand as an offering, herself as penance. 

As much as Veronica is strong— _has_ to be to survive—what she wants most is someone she can be weak with. And she doesn't know who else or how else to want, because she's always been devoted to him. 

It will always be him. 

So when she whispers, “I love you, Archie Andrews,” his face lights up, more brilliant than any setting or rising sun and for once in her life she doesn’t feel like hiding from anything. 

  
  
  
_fin_  
  


**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is [@lilibug--xx](https://lilibug--xx.tumblr.com)


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